


I’m Going Your Way Anyway

by gwyneth rhys (gwyneth)



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bisexual Bar Night, Bisexuality, Classic Cars, Community: intoabar, Developing Friendships, Drinking & Talking, Gen, Rosa's Weird Side Gigs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:53:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24853390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwyneth/pseuds/gwyneth%20rhys
Summary: They drank in silence for a while before she said, “So you’re not here for Bisexual Bar Night.”
Comments: 35
Kudos: 154
Collections: A Ficathon Goes Into A Bar





	I’m Going Your Way Anyway

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Into a Bar Challenge 2020 prompt: Bucky Barnes goes into a bar and meets...Rosa Diaz.

The potential new client was standing in front of her garage space when Rosa Diaz got there, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, eyes tracking the cars going up and down the street and the passersby. Aside from being pretty hot, he had really good situational awareness, maybe even better than her own. Okay—maybe she’d take him on.

The blue Mustang was parked at the bay door, and Rosa felt her eyes widen, as hard as she tried to stop herself from showing interest—he’d said he had a special car, but she had expected something more generic based on his vague answers on the phone. It must have set him back at least a hundred grand. “You James?”

He smoothed his long hair back from his eyes and nodded, held out a hand for her to shake. He wore leather gloves, even though it was April and not especially cold, but whatever, everyone had their weird thing. “Thanks for meeting, Ms. Sparrow.” Sweet, not a small-talker. There’d been people she’d rejected for jobs just because they’d tried to talk about the weather.

“Sixty-eight Shelby GT500—pretty cool. How’s she run?”

“Good enough to get her over here, but barely. Interior’s beat to hell, too.” He smiled a little apologetically, like he didn’t want to make her do extra work. 

“It’s what I’m here for.” Restoring cars wasn’t just something she did for the extra bucks, it helped keep her from going nuts sometimes, refocusing her brain when it got too worked up over the job. She got to see cars like this, solve the puzzle of how to make them as perfect as possible. “You got my name from Barton—you a friend of his?” She was glad to know that Barton had kept his word and used her most recent alias.

“Live in his building.” Rosa nodded—he was the only Avenger who lived in Brooklyn besides Captain America, and the only one she’d ever met when she fixed up his purple Barracuda. It made her feel bad, sometimes, that she’d never told Jake about that, since he got so stupid about the Avengers all the time, but then the second of guilt would pass. 

“So...not working with the Avengers or something like that.” He huffed out a small laugh. Damn, he was _really_ fine, like finer than he had any right to be. But also hard to get a read on, kind of distant, which was not something she was used to, and it threw her off her game a little. “You said this was for someone else.”

His shoulder gave a little roll, and he glanced away with a sigh. “You know who Steve Rogers is?”

“Sure, everyone does. You his personal assistant or something?”

This time he barked out a real laugh. “...Yeah, kinda.”

Rosa frowned, but he didn’t elaborate. It wasn’t like a superhero couldn’t have a personal assistant, but maybe an old-fashioned guy like the captain thought that was fussy or something. Who was she to judge. She stepped up to the bay door and unlocked it, rolling it up. “’kay, well, help me put this inside. I’ll take a look at it over the next few days, see what it needs. Gotta warn you, though, it won’t be cheap.”

He tossed her the keys and went around to the back end to push, saying cryptically, “Don’t worry—money’s not really an object.” He patted the chest pocket inside his jacket. “And I can pay you in cash.”

~~~

Bucky made his way further into his favorite bar, pushing past the irritating people clogging the entranceway. It was strangely busy and a mild sense of panic rose up at the crowd—pretty soon, it might not be so mild. He hadn’t been inside a place this crowded since… Since after Steve had shaken Hydra’s control loose and Bucky’d been in the wind, rebuilding himself, and every encounter with people made him twitchy as hell. Deeper in the bar wasn’t any better—he was about to turn around and leave when he saw a familiar face, leaning back against the far end of the bar. 

He’d had the impression that Miss Sparrow wasn’t the type to hang out in bars chatting with people, and maybe that was correct: her body language spoke of her irritation and a discomfort with social situations, or at least impatience with them. She’d shown herself to be not the least bit interested in small talk when he’d brought the car in, and after asking him some questions to determine what the scope of repairs would be, whether Bucky was on the up and up, and what to give her for a down payment, she’d let him go with only an “I’ll text you a full quote.” Her taciturnity was a relief.

She saw him before he could get through the press and jerked her chin up in wordless greeting—excellent situational awareness. She glared at the person standing next to her, and they dropped their head before shuffling off to make room for Bucky. He managed to get Jaimie the bartender’s attention and pointed at Miss Sparrow’s beer, then raised two fingers. 

They stood for a while in silence, watching the people, until he said, “Busy tonight.”

“Yeah. Sucks.”

He didn’t respond. The bartender slid the new pint for her and one for Bucky over, said, “Here you go, James,” and Bucky took a quick drink, feeling very awkward. 

Her eyebrow, which had an interesting scar bisecting it, arced upward. “You a regular?” The way she asked questions was less like queries than flat statements; she had command presence, which he found intriguing.

“A little.” 

They drank in silence for a while before she said, “So you’re not here for Bisexual Bar Night.”

Oh. It was some kind of event. “...No. Not really.” He would swear she was holding back a snicker, since he was a paying client and she didn’t want to piss him off. She was very attractive, if a little intimidating. “I live nearby. Never seen it like this.” 

“It’s a regular bar meetup for people who identify as bisexual.” She added, with a noise low in her throat like a cat coughing up a hairball, “We’re from different...support groups around New York.” Her eyes narrowed and he thought she was bracing for some sort of backlash. “You’re right. It’s lame. But bi people get a lot of shit in the dating pool.”

He didn’t think he’d given any indication he thought it was lame, but he raced through all the things he’d learned since coming back to himself—he wasn’t sure that word was in there. So he settled for a blank look. “Huh.”

Everything about her demeanor left the impression that he should go away and come back another time, that she hadn’t wanted to be seen here by anyone she knew. But she also sounded amused—though her face gave no hint of it—when she said dryly, “You don’t even know what I’m talking about, do you?”

“I’ve been away for a long time. There weren’t a lot of people being...um, open about that sort of thing when I was here last.” He thought that sounded like a reasonable response; it wasn’t like he wanted to offend her, but his general knowledge of 21st-century mores was pretty shaky.

Even though Miss Sparrow was angled away from him, Bucky could tell she was rolling her eyes. He was prepared for her to say something cutting except just then, a blond lady came over, wearing the kind of skin-tight clothes that Bucky knew women wore to exercise in nowadays. The two seemed to know each other, and he surmised that wasn’t ideal—there was a weird tension humming between them, despite the other gal’s apparent perkiness. “So glad you could make it, Leanne,” the woman said, hugging Miss Sparrow. Or rather, she put her arms around her, but Miss Sparrow just leaned toward her a little, arms tight to her side, teeth gritted. “Who’d you bring tonight?” and she eyed Bucky up and down in a hungry way. _What’s happening here?_ he wondered.

“I didn’t bring him, he brought himself,” and...Leanne, apparently, reluctantly added, “Jenn, this is James...”

Bucky stuck his hand out. “Buchanan. How do you do?” They both seemed amused by that.

“Which group are you with?” Jenn asked, eyes like a raptor’s. 

“Say Lower East Side,” Leanne mouthed over Jenn’s shoulder. 

“Um...Lower East Side?”

“Oh! Then you know Liam?” and she pointed at a guy with curly, dark hair who was wearing a Yankees T-shirt way over in the corner. Bucky took an instant dislike to him for that.

He stared at Leanne, eyes wide. “I’m...new. So...no?”

She brayed a loud laugh, though Bucky didn’t really understand why.

Undaunted by their cool reception to her, Jenn said, “Well, you’re not missing much. I went out with him once—as soon as you get him alone, all he can talk about is sports and working out. There’s not a lot there. He was obsessed with how much he could bench.”

“Dude, you’re wearing head-to-toe Lulu Lemon. How ’bout you step off?” _Wow._ Leanne did not kid around. He really liked that in a gal.

It had strangely little effect on Jenn; it was like she could tell she was annoying but didn’t care, or enjoyed knowing she bugged Leanne. “You’re such a badass! I just love you!” she said, her voice indicating the exact opposite.

“Oh god,” Leanne muttered. 

_Oh, okay, I get it,_ Bucky thought. _Bisexual_ meant they were dating more than just one gender. Some things locked into place for him. “I’ll take it under advisement if he asks me out,” Bucky threw in, trying to keep things polite.

“I came over to see if you wanted to get coffee again sometime, but I just realized, maybe you two are going out?” She pointed between Bucky and Leanne; she looked like a big cat that smelled fresh meat. “You make a cute badass couple, with your leather jackets and biker boots, and you’re so tough. A little Lee-Lee and Jay-Jay fling?”

“No!” Leanne bellowed. “Say the names right.” Bucky took a step back.

Jenn gave her a wink and said, “Oh you. Well. You know where to find me if you want me,” and Leanne groaned as she sauntered away.

“She seems nice, but I get the impression that’s totally on the surface,” Bucky observed.

Her brow curved upward again. “Your bitchdar is well-tuned.”

Bucky had no clue what that meant, but her tone suggested admiration. “We can pretend to be really deep in conversation so no other stupid people bother you.”

“Dope. Thanks.” He’d learned that “dope” wasn’t someone calling you an idiot these days so much as a compliment, or at least, that’s what she seemed to be doing. 

A really good-looking guy with a shaved head started walking over from the end of the bar, and Leanne pulled a baton out of her jacket, snapped it to full length, and snarled, “Keep walking.” The guy froze, a bunch of people nearby turned to stare, and then he glanced at Bucky like he was seeking support. Bucky shrugged and shook his head; he didn’t want to be part of whatever their thing was. The guy took a few steps backward, though, like he was moving away from a wild bear, before heading in the other direction. When she saw Bucky’s grimace, Miss Sparrow scowled. “He knows what he did.”

Under his breath, Bucky muttered, “Does he, though?”

Continuing to scowl, Leanne said, “Man, talking to people blows.”

“Agreed.” Bucky chose his next words carefully. “Don’t wanna pry, but why come to Bisexual Bar Night if you don’t want to talk to anyone? I mean, isn’t it about...mingling...with people of...either sex?” He waved his hand around. “I think maybe I’ve figured this thing out.”

“Dude, you really aren’t from around here, are you?”

He held his palms up. “I’ll spare you the long, sad story.” 

“Can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but do you want to go somewhere with fewer stupid people and drink about it?” She actually kind of growled.

“There’s a place around the corner with a bar.” 

“Can’t. Got caught with my last boyfriend having sex in the cold locker in the kitchen. Something about it being ‘unfair to the employees.’ I’m banned.”

He wasn’t certain what to say about that. “How about the next block up?” He’d seen Steve go there sometimes; he hoped that wouldn’t be a problem. Barton kept telling him he had to “stop stalking Cap.”

Leanne scanned the room and nodded. “I was hoping to meet someone cool tonight I haven't met before. I’m delightful. Why’s it so hard?” she asked—rhetorically, he assumed.

The next place was a lot quieter—and fortunately no sign of Steve or anyone else he knew. Bucky didn’t believe he was stalking Steve; more like...keeping an eye on him. Barton would tell him about Steve’s life these days, filling Bucky in on the way he’d fit himself to the modern world, what he liked and didn’t like—information that had included their shared love of the cool cars and bikes Steve had missed out on in the years he’d been frozen. That had eventually led him to car auctions, and to Leanne Sparrow.

When he pulled a chair out for her, she made a face like he was some hopeless goof, but he ignored it and went to get them some more beers. “All right,” she said when he returned, “I wasn’t gonna ask because I usually don’t care what people’s deals are, but you’re still wearing that glove on your left hand even though we’re indoors.”

“Injury. Looks awful and people always want to say something understanding about it.” If there was anything she’d grasp, it was avoiding having people show concern. 

“Okay.” She sipped her beer. “So that’s part of the long, sad story?”

“Yup.”

“That also why you didn’t know anything about bisexuality?”

“Sort of.” He got the impression she wanted to know more, though she wasn’t going to damage her reputation for disinterest and ask. “I’ve been away for a long time, like I said. And there’s this guy, he lives here and I came back hoping we might...reconnect. But I haven’t yet.”

“Ha!” He was glad he could amuse her so much. “You don’t read like you’re the chickenshit type.”

“I’m not, usually. But I don’t want to mess it up with him. Things were left in a less than ideal place.”

“Eh,” she said, waving a hand. “Don’t get tied in to anything, if it happens, it happens. Caring for people only slows you down. You gotta be prepared to move, any time, anywhere.”

“That’s why you were at Bisexual Bar Night, hoping to meet someone cool?”

The grin on her face said she didn’t take his teasing personally, maybe even enjoyed sparring a little. They drank in silence for a while before she whacked his arm and said, “The hipster dipshits hogging the dartboard are done.”

She just assumed he wanted to play, so he got up with her; Bucky imagined she assumed a lot of things and people just went along so they didn’t antagonize her. He’d forgotten a lot about social stuff like this, and tried to recall how to play darts from the days in the London pub they’d frequented during the war. His first throws landed dead center in the bullseye, nestled into each other, because he forgot to look more inept. 

“Jesus Christ, dude!” It was hard for him to tell if she was annoyed or impressed. 

“Uh...I was in the military,” he said to cover. “Trained marksman.”

“No shit,” she said with a low chuckle. So, impressed, then.

After playing for a while, Bucky said, “So how come there’s a night just for bisexual people’s support groups?” He knew group meetings were something Steve’s friend Sam did, and that Steve had gone to some of them, though Barton said he was a pill about it—no surprise to Bucky. It was too bad there weren’t help groups for ex assassins.

“Bi people get a lot of shit. People wanna insist you’re straight if you date someone of the opposite gender, or that you’re gay if you date someone of the same gender. They’ll tell you you’re confused, or going through some bullshit phase. Then there’s people who think you can’t be trusted not to cheat. Sometimes they say that you don’t exist at all and there’s no such thing as bi.” She had a pretty good throwing arm herself, and talking didn’t seem to disrupt her concentration.

“So, safety in numbers, only in a dedicated space with the same kinds of people.”

“Ha! Yeah.” Leanne looked at him slyly. “Why? You think that might be what you are?”

“Could be.” Elaborating on that wasn’t something he wanted to do. “This morning, I didn’t even know bisexuality existed; now if you told me I couldn’t really be one, I’d have to pick a fight,” he said with a smile.

“You could come to the group sometime. I mean, you’ll have to listen to a bunch of idiots talking about _ugh_ ”—she made a gagging noise—“stupid feelings, but sometimes it can help.” 

“I might do that.” He hoped no one would expect him to talk, because even if he left out all the time-period details, he wasn’t certain anyone could understand about him and Steve and Peggy. Even assuming he could remember all the details. 

“Maybe we can have dinner after.” Her mouth pursed in a cute little pout.

He raised an eyebrow. It felt good to know he still had it, just a little. 

Lest Bucky think too much of her flirting and friendliness, she turned away and took the darts off the board, saying, “Now, let me see that bigass knife you’ve been trying to hide under your jacket. It looks pretty sweet.”

~~~

Rosa grabbed their coffees from the counter and went over to where Amy was waiting by the back counter. They’d stopped at this new place to test it out after interviewing a shop owner who’d been robbed, even though it stank of Brooklyn hipster. Good coffee, though, she would grudgingly admit, but only to herself, because Amy would never let her live it down. 

When she handed Amy’s cup to her, she caught sight of a familiar face through the open stock room door, helping one of the employees lift some large boxes. “Thanks, James!” the young woman said to him, and he smiled and said, “Don’t mention it.”

Rosa tapped Amy on the arm. “Hey, Ames, see that guy? He’s the one I met the other night, the hot, befuddled one.”

“The one with the car like Jake’s?” At first Amy gave him an admiring appraisal, but then all of a sudden her eyes went huge and she gasped. “Oh my god, Rosa! Don’t you realize who that is!? Holy shit! That’s the freaking Winter Soldier!”

“What are you even talking about?” Rosa grumbled.

“The _Winter Soldier_!” Amy glared at her like she was the stupidest person she’d ever met. “The deadly assassin who killed all those people two years ago—almost including Captain America and the Black Widow and Falcon? Because it turned out Hydra had infiltrated SHIELD? Oh my god, I can’t believe—” And at Rosa’s blank stare, she almost yelled “The one we got the BOLO for after the whole Triskellion debacle?”

Rosa’s silence wasn’t because she didn’t remember that: it was because she couldn’t believe that the James who’d brought her Captain America’s freaking car, who’d been softly flirtatious playing darts with her, was the goddamn Winter Soldier. She slammed her coffee cup down next to a startled dude’s laptop, pulled a machete out of her jacket, and lunged forward. “Son of a bitch...”

Amy gaped. “What!? _How_?” She looked at the machete in shock, then grabbed Rosa’s arm. “Where did you even have that hidden? You’re like the freaking Highlander or something.”

She couldn’t help but smile a little at that. “Tight.”

“You cannot go after him. I know you’re a badass but he’s incredibly dangerous. We have to call it in.”

Just then, James came out of the stock room and spotted Rosa and Amy, freezing. His breath caught and he gave a jagged little exhale, holding up a hand, more as though he was telling her not to make a scene than in greeting; he seemed to instantly get that she was a cop. He slowly came over to where she and Amy stood, as Amy cautiously reached for her weapon. “I didn’t realize you were law enforcement. You don’t have to upset anyone here—I’ll come with you quietly.”

She could see him swallow hard, his eyes glittering with fear, or maybe just despair, and he began to put his hands behind his back. Abruptly all the things he’d said slotted into place, especially the stuff about being away for a long time: Rosa had been a little bit fascinated by what a badass the Soldier was from the stories about the DC attacks and had researched him in the data dump that Black Widow made. Instead of impressing her, though, it had made her want to throw up. 

And all this time, he’d just been hiding here, right in plain sight.

“Sit down,” Rosa snapped at him, narrowing her eyes. Amy looked like she was going to vibrate out of her shoes. Rosa jerked her head toward an empty table; James—the Winter Soldier, or Bucky, or whatever the hell his name actually was—wordlessly shuffled over with them and sat down, hands in lap. Amy was making a soft, keening wail in her throat as she came up behind them.

“You should have said something when you brought me the car, that you didn’t work for the captain and the car wasn’t his,” Rosa said. “Does Hawkeye really know who you are or is that a lie too? Are you just trying to find a way to get close to Captain Rogers or the Avengers so you can finish the job? Did you steal that money? Ugh, you’re making me ask so many questions and I _hate having questions_.”

“I should have told the truth, you’re right.” He looked at Amy, who still seemed as though she expected him to explode; her eyes had too much white, like a scared horse. “I came back to Brooklyn because it was the only real home I ever knew, and because Steve lives here, but I didn’t really know how to start. I really do know Barton, I really do live in his building, and he knows who I am. He kinda takes in strays. I thought the car might be a way in to talking to Steve, because of some of the things Barton told me.” He sighed. “I just haven’t figured out how to do it. After everything I did, to him and to everyone else...”

In a complete turnaround, Amy got that stupid romantic look on her face and her shoulders slumped down. “If you’re here, and you know Hawkeye, you have to know that Captain Rogers has been doing everything he can to make sure your name is cleared. You don’t do those things anymore, right?”

“No.” His eyes flicked to the side, as though he expected them to have called for backup already and he was waiting to be taken down. “The money I gave you was Hydra’s—after Steve reminded me who I was, for a little while I had access to their stuff, and I took it because I figured, what would they hate more than anything else: me using it for people they wanted to exterminate, right? I help people out when I can. But there’s only so much I can do to atone. And Steve shouldn’t have his reputation destroyed because of me.”

“What a load of crap,” Rosa said, shocking both him and Amy. “You think he’d care, you think anyone who’s met you recently would care who you were when it was totally against your will? I saw you in there helping that barista, and the bartender the other night seemed to know and like you. You’re not a bad guy anymore, you just have to keep proving it to the rest of the world like you’re already doing.”

With an eager nod, Amy said, “You’ve already got two of the Avengers on your team. You could do worse.” She’d gone from terrified to fawning fan in sixty seconds. “And us. You’ve got all of us at the Nine-Nine.”

Rosa slapped the table, startling everyone. “All right. Buckle in.”

Amy moaned softly, “Oh noooo.”

“This is what we’re gonna do: I’m gonna finish the car and you will pay me handsomely above the market price for all parts and labor with your secret stash of evil plunder, then we are presenting the finished vehicle at Captain Rogers’s place. If we need backup, Barton can come along. I am gonna introduce myself to him and explain the situation, and you two are gonna hug it out. The rest is up to you, but I’ll be watching.” She pointed two fingers at her eyes, then at him. “And Barton’s number is in my phone.”

“Ma’am, yes ma’am,” he said and smiled shyly. Damn, he really was gorgeous. 

“And just so you know, my real name is Rosa Diaz. _Detective_ Rosa Diaz of the Ninety-Ninth Precinct, and this is Detective Amy Santiago.” Amy waved her hand. “Leanne Sparrow is my new alias because the bozos on my squad burned the last one and I don’ t like people to know about my real life.”

Amy’s eyebrow shot up. “You have another one? Leanne _Sparrow_?”

“It’s a bird theme. Shut up.” She curled her lip. “If either of you douchebags breathes a word of it I will rip your faces off and scoop out your eyeballs. I am not getting another business license.”

Amy shook her head and blinked at Rosa. “You are so weird...” she whispered.

James opened and closed his mouth a couple times before he composed himself and said, “Hi, Rosa, Amy. I’m Bucky.”

Amy’s face brightened. “Oh my god, speaking of fanboys—can I take a picture with you to show someone?” she asked Bucky, who reacted with surprise. “Jake is gonna die of envy, he’s a huge Cap fan. And he’s never stopped talking about the time he saw the Falcon in the mens room at a Cyclones game.”

Rosa’s mouth turned down involuntarily. “Ew.”

He cleared his throat. “Maybe we could meet up for coffee sometime,” he said, looking at Amy, and Rosa thought she was gonna swoon or something. Gross.

They got up to flank him on either side and Bucky gave them a shy nod as Amy held the camera up. “Say Nine-Nine,” Rosa said, and she even let herself smile for the photo—well, just a little bit. She wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong impression.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Josh Ritter's Kathleen.
> 
> On [tumblr](https://teatotally.tumblr.com/post/621648677742723072/new-fic-for-into-a-bar-2020)


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